Mother's Love
by joelcoxriley
Summary: After the death of Spyro's birth mother, he seeks comfort in his adoptive mother, Nina.


**I apologize if this has any errors in it because I don't have my contacts. I hope you enjoy. Some of it may not make complete sense because it is part of a larger story, even if these events are AU. This is mainly for Nina, since most members within this fandom completely forget about Spyro's actual family, though Flash is not present within this one shot, nor is Sparx. Just mommy Nina.**

* * *

The forest burned, smoke rising into the skies as the bark of trees splintered and popped from the immense heat. The smoke had forced Spyro to the charred sylavan floor littered with embers and ash as the wind stung his eyes and irritated his lungs.

The purple dragon looked around in desperation for his companion, but the forest aflame served as a veil to hide the beast they were fighting within: Malefor's mother.

"U-ugh! Ugh! Ugh! C-Cynder! C-ugh! Ugh! Cynder!" Spyro called, coughs racking his body as his talons burned, digging into the painfully dull yet sharp heat of the ashen earth. Spyro squinted his eyes, yet the pain did not lessen.

"Cynder!" The dragon called out again, the sap exploding from a nearby tree, spraying heated and viscous syrup and splinters as the once great maple fell. Spyro looked upon with horror as the wooden giant fell, barely having enough time leap out of the way.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! C...Cynder!" Spyro called, the fallen tree kicking up ash, a monsterous roar seeming to split the skies set ablaze with colors of fire. Spyro felt his blood turn cold as the cry hit his ears, pupils narrowing in alertness and terror. She was here, somewhere. But where, the purple dragon could only guess. Wherever she was, he hoped Cynder was far away. Ancestors help them if they were in the path of her fiery breath, for hell had no furry like a wrathful mother.

Time seemed to slow before a familiar cry awakened Spyro from his ravine, Cynder screaming as she was sent tumbling by a powerful blow out of the skies. The black dragoness slammed into a charred tree, bark snapping and wing twisting as she spun, crashing hazardously into a ground as the ash stirred.

"Cynder!" Spyro cried, rushing towards his companion as the female struggled to rise, but could not, blood lazily trickling down the corner of her jaws. She appeared dazed and unfocused, emerald eyes gazing upon the male in deliriousness.

"Hmmm...Spyro?" Cynder questioned, groaning softly before wheezing, "We...we have to get out of...ugh..here."

"You get out of here, Cynder. This isn't your fight." Spyro urged, pressing his body against her as he helped Cynder rise, "Go. Or else you might not be able to get out of here if you wait for me."

Cynder rose, black scales covered in embers and thick ash as she coughed, shaking her head, "No...not without you. I'm...I'm with you, Spyro."

"Atura doesn't want you, Cynder. She wants me. This is my fight."

Once more, the dragoness shook her head, "I'm after Malefor as well. You can't do this on your own. Ugh. Your fight is my fight."

Spyro paused, looking into her eyes before nodding, "Alright. But if things go bad, I want you to get out of here. Cynder, please. Leave me, just this once. I don't want to see you die."

Cynder chuckled softly despite her wounds, "And I don't want you to die for me."

Spyro smiled a bit, suddenly seeing a massive serpents tail breaching from the burning forests, the purple dragon pushing Cynder out of the way, "Look out!"

The monstrous limb slammed into several trees, sap and large wooden shrapnel exploding from the force of the blow, trees falling all around the pair as they struggled to find safety. The tail swiftly returned to the cloak of ash, hidden, smoke once more blanketing the air. The sound of the dragoness moving through the forest rang loudly over anything else save for a shrill hiss, a silhouette slowly forming, sharp and low slung to the ground.

"You okay?!" Spyro asked, Cynder underneath his wing as she nodded.

"I'm fine!"

"Right. Get ready! I think she's done toying with us!" Spyro warned, the aforementioned dragon emerging from the ash and flame that seemed to part before her, winged legs kicking up dust and head hung low. A soft hiss escaped the scarlet mother, white and black chest stained with soot as saliva dripped from her gaping maw, igniting into a blaze at her wings. Yet the thing that stuck out to Spyro more was not her powerful affinity to fire or enormous size, but her eyes that almost seemed to juxtapose her very being. They were blue, clear and stunning, soft yet callous. They were his eyes, not Malefor's. They were not his brother's.

Spyro stood his ground against the female, golden wings outstretching before falling to his flanks, "I don't want to fight you. I wish...I wish there was a way to end this peacefully, but I know there isn't. I just...always wanted to know who my mother is. My real mother. Now I know. And I know what I must do for the greater good."

The purple dragon heaved, as if under a great strain, amethyst eyes softening. A low grumble escaped the throat of Atura, crystal eyes dilating as she looked upon her child. Slowly, almost hesitantly did the dragon lower her head, large and small snouts almost touching until her pupils constricted. Spyro was unable to dodge as he was knocked off his feet from a powerful blow from her head, the strike sending him colliding with a charred tree.

"Spyro!" Cynder cried, voice laden with worry before shooting a spray of poison, Atura jolting back and shaking her head, hide burning.

Roaring in rage, the serpent swopped upon Cynder and snatched the black dragoness in her jaws, screams and bones snapping filling the air.

"Cynder! NO!" Spyro cried in dismay, Atura shaking the dragon imprisoned in her jaws before throwing the small creature off to the side, Cynder rolling before coming to a stop, body broken.

The serpent roared in rage, cry deafening. To Spyro, however, her call was distant, and far. All that mattered was Cynder.

Swiftly, urgently did the male approach, body bruised and beaten, "Cy...Cynder? Ugh. Cynder?"

His eyes watered upon his companion remaining silent, soft sobs wracking his body that swiftly turned into rage.

"YOU!" Spyro roared, turning towards the scarlet female, Atura looking upon him, yet made no movement as his scales turned black, "You...shall pay!"

Tears ran down his blacked snout as Spyro's pupils faded to white, darkness enveloping his body. The mother did not back down from her corrupt child, instead striking at the small dragon, serated jaws gaping.

Without thought, the child unleashed the wrath of Convexity upon the Mother of Fire, the tainted element piercing the soft flesh within her maw, bursting from the back of her skull in a ravinous display of scale and blood.

Atura's head was thrown back by the force, blood seeping from her mouth as she cried, trashing wildly before dropping to the ashen ground. The earth seemed to groan under the strain of her weight, several trees falling from her massive girth.

The mother groaned softly, blood pooling around her as thick globs threatened her labored breaths. Spyro breathed, swift and ragged from rage as his hue suddenly lightened to a purple and gold tint, pupils brightening in color and softening.

"Ugh...what?" Spyro questioned, shaking himself before his eyes focused upon the fallen fire dragon before him, "A...mom?"

He could not call her by her name. He could not call her by anything else. He could see it in her eyes. She no longer looked upon him as a beast, but as a true mother. Soft eyes gazed upon him from the ground, as if the very womb of the ocean itself, warm and comforting despite the fact that Atura was not only looking upon her son, but her killer.

And upon looking into her eyes and seeing his own did Spyro understand. The young dragon's head hung low in shame, for in this situation he was worse than Malefor, his brother. He understood why it was his mother that lay dying, and not him. He could not bring himself to look into her eyes, for they spoke of things that he would never be able to hear in her tongue.

_Shhhhh. It is over._

"I...I know it is. You're dying, and I...I never meant for this to happen! I never thou..." Spyro paused, closing his eyes tightly as a soft sob wracked his body.

Atura looked upon him, head slowly leaning to one side ever so slightly, eyes losing focus before slowly snapping together.

_I could never harm you. Not you. _

Spyro's nostrils flared as he sniffed loudly. He never thought he would kill his own mother. He never thought he would kill any innocent. But he didn't realize how painful the act would be. He didn't realize that they would both be used.

"M...Mom..." He called, unconsciously so, as if a frightened child, her eyes once more losing focus, darkening.

_Now...I am free...because of you._

"Mom..."

_I love you._

A slow exhale escaped her troubled lungs, and she breathed no more, eyes closed and jaw slacked. The Dragon of Fire was dead.

"M...Mom? Mom!" Spyro beckoned, looking upon her, hoping his eyes were truly playing tricks on him. It could not be. His mother was dead. His mother that have gave him breath and life. His mother whom had forgiven him despite her youngest child being her killer.

"It's over Spyro. She's gone." A soft voice next to the purple dragon caused him to look upon the dragon before him, Cynder by his side, wounded and pained.

"Cynder...oh, Ancestors, I killed her! I killed my mother, and because of him!" Spyro cried, the black dragoness butting him gently.

"I know. I know, Spyro...Malefor will get what's coming to him." Cynder whispered softly, the purple male nodding, "You would never kill her on purpose. Only Malefor would."

"He's going to pay. We need to end this." Spyro stated, looking upon the corpse of his mother, her body beginning to burn from the very flame she birthed, "Come on, Cynder. Let's go somewhere safe."

Cynder nodded, following Spyro and leaning upon him for support as they left the forest ablaze, Atura's own corpse birthing embers.

* * *

_Six months later...  
_

Spyro returned to the same swamp he had spent his hatchlinghood within, the warm mud squishing between his talons and the must of the bogs enticing his childhood nostalgia. Life after The Fall of Malefor had been...something the young dragon was not accustomed to. Too much fame, politics and power struggles. The cut throat and celebrity lifestyle did not suit the young hero well, and it was not too long ago that same lifestyle almost destroyed him. He was horrified to realize that he had almost forgotten where he had came from.

The young dragon followed the faintly familiar path to his childhood home, anxiety gripping his heart. It had been years since his dragonfly family had seen him. He wondered if they would think differently of him?

However, Spyro's initial fears were focused upon Nina. Ever since the slaying of his mother by his own talons, Spyro had been restless. He may not have loved Atura like he did Nina, yet Atura was his birth mother, and he had held the utmost respect for the Fire Dragon, for without her he would cease to be. The guilt of not only killing an innocent, but disrespecting the one whom had brought him into the world by taking her life was the most distasteful thing. He may not have loved Atura as he did Nina, yet he knew Atura had loved him much more than Malefor, though did not have the heart to slay the older dragon. Malefor, however, had no problem using them against each other. In the end, Spyro made sure his mother was avenged, no matter how small.

Yet, unlike so many, Spyro was fortunate that he had not one, but two mothers. And he would have thanked each female if he could. Now, looking upon Nina and seeing the blue dragonfly glow with joy upon seeing her son, Spyro knew he was graced by the Ancestors.

"Spyro! My baby boy!" Nina gasped, hugging the dragon's snout as Spyro gently nuzzled her, smiling softly.

"Hi, Mom." The dragon smiled, "I'm home."

"That...that you are." Nina sullenly mimicked his features, sniffing as she wiped her eyes.

Spyro cocked his head to the side, concern filling his soft eyes, "Mom? Are you okay?"

The dragonfly laughed gently, voice softly echoing on the wind, "Of course, Spyro. I'm just...happy you're home. I love you, son."

"I love you, too." Spyro smiled, nuzzling her. Yes, he could tell Nina he loved her. Not like Atura, "I don't want to lose you, Mom. Not ever."

"And you won't lose me, Spyro. It's my job to watch over you, though I don't think you need me watching over you anymore. You've grown so much...what have you done with my son?" Nina questioned, slightly joking.

"He grew up...I found her, you know. My real...my birth mother." Spyro replied, voice softening as he looked towards the muddy ground, Nina frowning.

"Oh, honey...I'm so sorry." Nina cooed, hugging the dragon as Spyro began to softly cry.

"I don't want to lose you, Mom. I don't want to lose you, too."

"Shhhh. It's okay. I'm here." The dragonfly whispered softly, firmly patting his scaled snout as his cries subsided.

Spyro sniffed softly, shaking his head, "Thank you, Mom."

"No problem, dear."

"No, I mean it. For everything. Thank you." Spyro smiled sullenly, realizing just how lucky he was to have not one mother, but two. If possible, he would thank Atura for giving him life, and thank Nina for molding him into the dragon he was today. One mother was gone from his life, but that didn't mean he couldn't honor her by thanking Nina. From now on, Spyro knew he would cherish his family even more, and fight whatever what may come to defend them.


End file.
